The blue boat - La barca azul

Mexico
Photograph © Brent Kollock

At dawn, the north wind blew the waves strongly, beating its foamy arms with fervor until a boat was wrecked on the beach. Its blue color had faded in parts where the sea had taken its due when navigating its waters. A sign on the side in scarlet letters read Palom r. The letter a had been erased and a grayish shadow remained in its place.

The sun's rays rushed down and the light peeked out between my toes. Because of my exhaustion, I couldn't lift my eyes any longer. So I slept a while. I was hungry and thirsty.  I had to get to town before the downpour fell.  

I tried to rush my sleep. My bare chest, dry with sand, reminded me of the luck of my escape from my husband's house. I ran out into the night when he tried to lock me in a room under a padlock. I managed to shake off his anger by throwing a wooden jewelry box at the window. The cracks in the glass were my door of freedom and I ran in the moonlight until I reached the beach.

I walked towards the blue boat. Its whale-like figure had an empty skeleton belly. I 
found a rope and a fishing net. I climbed in and hid. I tried to stop the wind with my fingers. The boat rocked and the waves spoke sweetly to her.  She moved until she was stuck in a rocky corner where white flowers grew. The flowers gave off a scent of honey-pollen and the bees buzzed quickly, intoxicated by their feeding. The coarse grain of the sand was like white sugar that melts with water. I imagined eating the sand with honey and thus I calmed the anguish of my hunger.

Photograph © Brent Kollock

Thick, heavy drops began to appear. I thought it would be a light drizzle, but then it gained strength and jets of water moved the boat from its place.  Bubbles and foam from the sea crashed in and turned my refuge into a heavy belly. I abandoned the boat.

I came upon a thatched shack at a fisherman's wharf. A toothless lady dressed in a stained apron bellowed at me, "Dirty!" When they smell a strange presence, the skinny, mangy dogs come out to bark, dripping saliva. The uproar summoned people to lean out the door to take a look.  Another lady with broad shoulders and a bent forehead offered me a scratchy cloth to cover my nakedness. Her hands with luminous scales that had stuck dry to her hands smelled of guts and fish. But I felt her motherhood in her eyes and she offered me lodging in her hut.

She comforted me, “Tomorrow will dawn a clear day pronounced by the mouth of God. Come on girl, sleep. The journey is long and we women are of dominion and power. "

Written by Leticia Alaniz

© 2021

Photograph © Brent Kollock